Iraq

March 16, 2010

Ibrahim Abdullatif looks the part of a modern American businessman. Dressed in a suit and tie, he checks his email on an iPhone and drives to the large fitness centre he operates in a late model SUV. The 31-year old's cheerful accent speaks of Nashville, Tennessee, but the small Kurdish flag pinned to his lapel gives away why he's come from America to run a business in a country where others would not dare to.

Abdullatif was born, not far from Dohuk, in a cave where his parents took shelter while their village was attacked by the Iraqi army. Like many rural Kurds, Abdullatif's family led a traditional life raising goats. That changed in 1987 when Saddam Hussein's notorious al-Anfal campaign stepped up attacks on Iraq's Kurdish population. Abdullatif's family were forced to flee with thousands of other Kurdish refugees to neighboring Turkey. He was just 8 years old.

"Thinking about it, that is the time I remember the most out of my life," said Abdullatif about the dangerous mountain trek to Turkey. 'The more we walked, the more I asked my parents: 'Where are we going and when are going to get there?'"From Turkish refugee camp to Nashville

To help his family survive as refugees in Diyarbakir, the enterprising young Ibrahim fetched ice to sell in the market, shined shoes and sold Kurdish jewelry and music on the streets. In 1991, after four years as refugees, Abdullatif's father weighed up the family's prospects and decided that the United States offered them the best future. Along with several thousand Kurdish refugees, the family made their new home in Nashville, Tennessee.

Abdullatif said he managed to master English at high school and quickly adapted to the American way of life.

"For me, everything that I am is because of America. Everything. Learning how to read and write. Not being oppressed. Going through a normal, happy life," he said. "Everything about America, if you only try, you'll get ahead and I appreciate that."

Returning to frontline Iraq

"Instantly I said I had to go... I was very passionate about giving something back to America."

When the United States began preparing in 2003 to invade Iraq, Abdullatif put his college studies on hold and offered his services as a translator for the US Army. Soon, he found himself on the frontline in Kirkuk.

"Several times we had close calls of being killed and I was fine with that," he said.It was an emotional return to his homeland but he also saw the potential that the stability of northern Iraq offered for business opportunities.Thanks to revenue from oil exports, Kurdish Iraq is thriving. The Kurdish Regional Government is actively positioning the region as a gateway for foreign investors into Iraq.

In 2007, Abdullatif raised enough capital with another Kurdish-American partner to open the Gerdun Fitness Center in Dohuk. The center boasts a modern weights studio, a swimming pool and a large snooker hall. Clients can work out on modern exercise equipment, steam up in the sauna, cool off in the pool or relax with friends at the "California Cafe" that offers an American diner-style menu.

"We set up a fitness and recreational center in Dohuk because the city needed one. People needed a place to work out and to have fun," said Abdullatif.

Making Iraqi Kurdistan fitter for the future

Kurdistan is often referred to as "The Other Iraq". People of different ethnicities and religions live together largely in peace in Dohuk which, like nearby Erbil and Sulaimaniya, is fast becoming a refuge for Arabs, Kurds, Christians, Muslims and Yezidis wishing to leave the violence of nearby cities such as Mosul and Kirkuk. However, Abdullatif's fitness center is also challenging conservative attitudes in Iraq, particularly toward women.The fitness center offers special women-only opening hours and is the only place in Dohuk where women can exercise in a gym and learn to swim.

"It has given women freedom from home and the opportunity to take care of themselves and become healthier," said the center's women's swimming instructor, Bishkoj Khosro Abdullah.

Abdullatif and his partner have also introduced modern American business practices. Staff at Gerdun are drilled in American-style customer service. But Abdullatif adds that his employees are paid well above average local wages and have regular work breaks - something his employees had never experienced.

"Our staff are more productive," said Abdullatif. "And other businesses are now following what we do."

Ibrahim Abdullatif is confident about investing in Iraqi Kurdistan. He and his business partner are now looking into developing a cinema and bowling alley and opening more fitness centers in Erbil, Sulaimaniya, and if security improves, Kirkuk.

January 21, 2010

Over a hubbly bubbly and sweet chay in Dohuk this week I met Faris Zubair Ali - a highly experienced deminer and Operations Manager for the Iraqi Kurdistan Mine Action Agency.

My co-producers Karlos Zurutuza and Borja Portuondo had interviewed Faris and his team at work in 2007, but his extraordinary account of a minefield rescue on a mountain at night had us sitting up in our seats and drawing back hard on the shisha.

At around 9pm on November 23, 2008, Faris was called by local civil defence authorities in Dohuk seeking his help. Four hours earlier, two teenage shepherds had unknowingly walked into a minefield near the village of Bagera. They were cousins. One lad had stepped on a mine - an Italian made Valmara 69. This bounding fragmentation mine contains 500 grams of explosives and 1400 pieces of shrapnel. The mine killed him severing his legs and injured his cousin in the back leaving him unable to move.

By the time Faris and two other deminers reached a trail leading to minefield it was well and truly dark. Emergency services had lit a fire to guide them up the mountain - rugged stoney terrain with a lot of low bushes.

When they reached the minefield Faris and his team took stock of the situation. Time was critical and they only had one metal detector between them.

By torchlight, the de-miners cleared a path to the injured boy - 150 metres long and one metre wide - within an hour. To put that in context, a team of deminers in daylight and under good weather conditions can clear 20-30 metres in about six hours.

"We we're not following standard procedures. We we're not following our own rules. It was an emergency."

Deminers never work at night and avoid working in areas where they have not surveyed or conducted a reconnaissance. Faris said that they decided not to use protective clothing as it would slow them down.

The deminers used sticks to mark the cleared lane and whatever was at hand to mark the mines. At first they were able to mark the location of mines and move around them. But as they edged closer to the injured shepherd, Faris had to disarm and remove mines to make the area safer for the paramedics.

Along the path they cleared, the team found five different types of landmines. They had to remove seven mines linked to trip wires, including a mine underneath the injured boys arm. Faris says it was fortunate that the boy had a spinal injury that prevented him from moving too much.

Faris gave me video footage shot on a mobile phone by a rescuer accompanying the deminers. It's quite rough and sometimes the camera was held the wrong way but this clip shows the conditions and Faris working quickly to disarm and remove a mine.

Extraordinary. Brave. The injured boy survived and Faris said he is slowly making a recovery.

These photos taken after the accident show the area where the boys encountered the mines and the path cleared though the minefield.

Faris told me the boys and their family moved to Bagera from Mosul and were unfamiliar with the local terrain. Yes, they had received MRE - minefield risk education training - but as I found out in Georgia last year, sometimes the lessons about the dangers of landmines are sadly learnt the hard way.